“But he wasn’t at Almack’s?”
“How do we know? He attended Harrow and Eton and is the fourth son of an earl, so he would certainly have been allowed in. Just because we didn’t know he was present doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. And if he came to speak to Broughton, or any other member of the family, no one would’ve remarked on it.”
“So if he was there, he had the opportunity to add the poison to the orgeat. I suppose we can check the subscription book for that evening and see if Dr. Redmond was present.” Miss Harrington sighed. “I’ll say it before you do. This is all pure supposition. Perhaps the dowager did poison everyone and everything that has happened since is simply because of that. It is none of our business anyway.”
Robert raised an eyebrow. “When has that ever stopped you from meddling?”
She smiled at him. “After being trapped in a tomb last year I decided it would be prudent to keep my meddling ways to myself. But it seems as if I either attract trouble or have an overriding desire to be proved right. What’s your excuse, Major?”
“I’m not sure anymore. I thought I was helping an old army colleague.”
“And what about Lieutenant Broughton’s part in all this?”
Robert met her clear gaze. “What about him?”
“He is very close to Dr. Redmond and was the person who introduced him into the household.”
“After the dowager nearly killed everyone with her potions.”
“Yes, but what does Broughton think about all these deaths?”
“I haven’t spoken to him about Oliver yet. I got the impression from Dr. Redmond that he suspected some kind of pressure on the brain or a fever had taken over Oliver’s mind and made him irrational, hysterical, and delusional enough to leap out of the window over nothing.”
“And from all accounts that could be true,” Miss Harrington said slowly. “Is it possible that Dr. Redmond is doing Broughton’s bidding?”
“But Broughton was poisoned himself. He might have died.”
“That’s true, so perhaps the good doctor has decided to intervene on his benefactor’s behalf and clear the decks around him. But why would he bother? What reason would he have to even consider such a series of actions?”
“I don’t know.” Robert sighed. “He is rather fond of the current countess, but she is still married to Broughton’s father. Unless they are in cahoots and intend to lure the viscount back to England and dispose of him as well.”
“I suppose that is possible. She is the only member of the family who wasn’t poisoned. Unfortunately, she doesn’t seem the sort of woman who would fall passionately in love with anyone.”
“Agreed.”
“And I can’t really see Dr. Redmond killing for her, because he’d still have to dispose of Broughton and his father.” Miss Harrington made a face. “I don’t think we are ever going to understand what is going on.”
“I think it’s time I moved back to Fenton’s. I don’t want to be anywhere near Dr. Redmond at the moment.”
“I agree, but there are a couple of things you might consider doing before you leave. . . .”
After bidding Major Kurland good night, Lucy made her way back up the stairs to the drawing room deep in thought. To her surprise, Mr. Stanford was ensconced in a chair by the fire still talking to Sophia.
He stood up when she came in and bowed. “Good evening, Miss Harrington. Mrs. Giffin has been telling me about young Oliver Broughton’s unexpected death. I must confess to be shocked to hear of it.”
Lucy sat beside Sophia on the couch. “It is always terrible when someone dies at such a young age, isn’t it?” She considered him for a long moment. “Mr. Stanford, did you mention that you were interested in science?”
“I did, Miss Harrington. I belong to a club named Fletchers on Portland Street where we discuss new developments in the emerging scientific fields.” He smiled. “I must admit that my interest is not purely impartial. As a lawyer, I am always looking for new ways to ensure a conviction in a murder investigation. For far too long, many murderers have gotten away with crimes that I suspect could be solved if we were able to determine exactly what had happened to the body.”
“Such as the effect of poison?”
“Indeed. I have been reading Orfila’s book about detecting poison in the human body. If we can persuade the courts to accept such evidence, it promises to be very helpful in the future.”
“Do you have a copy that I might borrow, Mr. Stanford?”
“Yes, I do.” He smiled at her. “May I ask why you are so interested in such gruesome matters?”
Lucy hesitated. Major Kurland had already warned her not to discuss details of her suspicions with anyone, but she had a sensation that time was running out and that any help would be beneficial.
“I hope I can rely on your complete discretion, Mr. Stanford, but I am interested in what has been happening to the Broughton family.”
Mr. Stanford sat back. “In what way?”
She met his interested gaze. “Don’t you think it odd that the dowager countess and Oliver died so suddenly?”
“It is unusual, I grant you, but not unheard of. The dowager was an elderly lady and Oliver was known to be rather . . . unstable.”
“But what if they were murdered?”
“Then someone would have to provide the evidence of such a crime and take it to the coroner and the local magistrate.”
“And what if that evidence was difficult to obtain?”
“Does this fall into the category we just touched upon? Poison?”
“Yes, I believe it does.”
Lucy told Mr. Stanford the whole story and he listened intently, only interrupting to ask sensible questions, which made Lucy approve of him even more.
“It certainly is a tangle,” Mr. Stanford said. “But here is one thing to think on. Putting poison in the orgeat at Almack’s was a terribly risky venture. If the dosage had been high enough, the murderer could have killed more than just the dowager countess.”
“I agree.” Lucy shuddered. “I was about to drink a glass myself, but someone hit my elbow and I spilled everything over my dress.” She paused. “I wonder if someone did that deliberately.”
“Can you remember whom you were standing by?”
She hesitated. “It might have been Oliver.”
The clock on the mantelpiece chimed six times. Mr. Stanford glanced over at it and rose to his feet.
“Good Lord, it’s getting late and I’m in court tomorrow. I’ll send that book to you right away, Miss Harrington.” He bowed over her hand and then turned to Sophia. “Always a pleasure, Mrs. Giffin.”
Sophia smiled up at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?”
He kissed her fingers. “Thank you for the invitation, but I regret I must leave. I have some rather interesting research to do.”
Lucy let Sophia walk Mr. Stanford to the top of the stairs while she considered what had happened during the long and stressful day. When Sophia returned, they decided to forgo a more formal meal in the dining room and eat their dinners from a tray in their respective rooms.
Just as Lucy finished eating, a knock on her door heralded the arrival of Orfila’s book from Mr. Stanford. With a contented sigh, she settled down to read it again. Perhaps using the scientific method might help her more than she had imagined and finally sort out the intricacies of the case.
Chapter 15
“Broughton, I believe I’ll return to Fenton’s today.”
Broughton looked up from his substantial breakfast at Robert, who sat opposite him. He wore his uniform with a black armband around his sleeve. His face looked drawn and worry lines creased his forehead.
“I understand. It hasn’t been much fun for you here, has it?” His mouth twisted. “I hardly expected to be mourning two family members at once.”
“It must be very hard for you. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact me at the hotel. I will always stand your fri
end.”
“I appreciate that, Kurland. There is a lot to do here, so you will probably be more comfortable in a hotel. My mother’s taken to her bed and I don’t blame her. One good thing is that my father is definitely on his way home from India. We received a letter from him with the name of the ship he’s traveling on, and the anticipated date of arrival at Southampton.”
“Well, that at least is good news.” Robert finished his coffee. “I need to speak to Foley and make sure he knows what to pack. I believe after my soaking in the lake, he borrowed a couple of military items from your wardrobe. I’ll make sure to return them.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll hardly be wearing them myself, will I?” Broughton forced a smile. “I can’t imagine how I’m going to tell my father that Oliver is dead when I can’t quite believe it myself.” He suddenly buried his face in his hands. “God, what a disaster.”
Robert stood up and after collecting his cane came around the table to take Broughton’s shoulder in a hard grasp.
“I won’t disturb your mother when I leave, but please give her my thanks.”
Broughton didn’t reply, and Robert went out into the hallway where the butler awaited him.
“Good morning, Major Kurland. A note was just delivered for you.”
“Thank you.” Robert took the sealed note and went up the stairs into his bedchamber, where Foley was already packing his bags. Ignoring Foley’s chatter, he opened the note and read the contents before throwing the paper on the fire. Miss Harrington wanted to see him at his earliest convenience. The last three words were heavily underlined. He wondered what on earth she had involved herself in now. Or had the note simply been a reminder for him to complete the task that she had set him?
On that thought, he turned to Foley.
“Is Lieutenant Broughton expected to go out today?”
“Indeed he is, sir. He’s due at his solicitor’s this morning, and then he plans to go to his club on Portland Street.”
Robert was always impressed at Foley’s ability to know what was going on in a household. “I’ve got some items I need to return to the lieutenant, so let me know when he’s left the house.”
“I’ll do that, sir.”
Robert went down the stairs and out through the library into the large back garden. A few flowers were emerging from the beds and the grass was greening up nicely. As he inhaled the London smoke that seemed to hover constantly an inch over his head in the leaden skies, Robert wondered how his fields at the manor were looking. Had his potential new land agent started work, or was he waiting for a more formal agreement between them? He should write and engage Mr. Fairfax’s services immediately. He hadn’t heard back from the Prince Regent’s secretary as to a date for his more formal investiture and he wanted to go home....
Unfortunately, he was subject to the whims of his monarch. And, to be honest, he would rather like to find out exactly what was going on at the Broughtons’. With that thought firmly in mind, he walked down the main path and took the branch that led off to the dowager’s stillroom. Making sure that there was no one observing him from the house, Robert found the key where Miss Harrington had told him it would be, unlocked the door, and let himself in.
The dowager’s herbal lay on the table. It looked a lot larger and heavier than he remembered. But it was a relatively simple matter to tuck it under his arm, cover it with his military coat, and return to the house. He kept walking until he reached his room and deposited the book on the bed beside the bag Foley was packing.
“Has the lieutenant left the house yet?”
“Yes, sir. He exited just after you went into the garden.”
“Good.”
“Do you want me to find his valet and give him the cufflinks and the silver polish we borrowed?”
Robert held out his hand. “If you give them to me, I’ll get out of your way and take them back myself. Don’t bother to call for Broughton’s valet. I can leave them on his dressing table.”
Miss Harrington wasn’t the only one who could make suggestions as to how he should proceed. If he was leaving Broughton House, it would be his last chance to survey the more private places of the great house. He wasn’t sure quite what he was looking for in Broughton’s bedchamber, but it seemed too good an opportunity to waste.
He knocked on Broughton’s door, but there was no sign of his valet or any other member of the household. After depositing the cufflinks, spare silver buttons, and polish on the walnut shaving stand, Robert took stock of his surroundings and whistled in surprise. Most military men of his acquaintance were neat in their habits, but this seemed not to be the case with Broughton. A large desk was pushed up against the window. The surface was stacked high with books and notebooks and other scholarly items that continued in a pile on the floor.
Robert approached the desk and discovered the drawers were so stuffed full of papers that they wouldn’t shut. Broughton was obviously very serious about transforming his life and pursuing his new interests. He went even closer. It appeared that not all the papers were of a scientific nature. Amongst the scholarly texts and scribbled notes there were several demands for payment of large bills and other twists of paper that looked like copies of vouchers for gambling debts. Broughton had never struck him as a gambler. Perhaps he was attempting to deal with Oliver’s debts so that he could report the totals to his father on his return?
After considering the mess for another second or two, Robert turned on his heel and made his way back to his room, one of the larger gambling debts folded into a neat square in his hand.
“I’m going out to see Miss Harrington and her sister, Foley. I’ll be back shortly. Send a note around to Fenton’s and tell them to expect us this afternoon.”
Lucy glanced approvingly at the clock as Major Kurland was announced by the butler and came through the door. After depositing the dowager’s herbal on the table beside her, he bowed and stopped short when he spotted Mr. Stanford.
“Have I come at a bad time? I thought you wanted to see me immediately, Miss Harrington.”
“I did, Major Kurland. Thank you for being so prompt.” She smiled at him. “I also invited Mr. Stanford.”
The look he cast her was eloquent with disapproval, but he did at least sit down. “I assume you went against my advice and asked for his help in this matter as well?”
She held up the book she had on her lap. “He had a copy of Orfila’s treatise on the effects of poison in the human body.”
“Oh, well, that explains it.”
Lucy ignored his attempt at levity and turned to Mr. Stanford. “I wonder if you might clarify a point for me, sir. In the book, Orfila suggests that natural poisons are more difficult to detect in the body than industrially produced ones.”
“So I understand.”
“And natural versions of a poison are slower acting.”
“Yes.”
“So if someone wished to kill the dowager at precisely that moment in Almack’s, the poison administered would have to have been a more manufactured and concentrated powdered form?”
“Why?” Major Kurland asked. “Poison is poison, isn’t it?”
“Well, no,” Mr. Stanford said. “As I understand it, it depends on several factors as to how fast it works. Drinking a diluted or more natural form of a poison is much slower to act because it has to travel down into the stomach and then onto the organs it wishes to affect.”
Lucy nodded. “That’s correct, Mr. Stanford. Also, the strength of a natural remedy can vary depending on the quality of the plants used, the time they are harvested, and other mitigating factors.”
“So you’re saying that if the dowager swallowed poisoned orgeat made from a natural remedy at Almack’s, she wouldn’t necessarily have dropped dead on the spot?”
“Exactly.”
Major Kurland raised his head. “But we know that Broughton ingested the poison, too. I saw him. He wasn’t faking his condition.”
“But he didn’t die.”
<
br /> “Which means either the dowager got a more concentrated dose than he did, or that he didn’t react to it in the same way.” Mr. Stanford shrugged.
“What if a manufactured poison like rat poison was put into the orgeat?” Sophia asked.
“It would definitely be more powerful.”
“And it wasn’t that long between them drinking the orgeat and the dowager taking ill,” Lucy murmured half to herself. “This doesn’t really help us at all, does it?”
“Why not?” Major Kurland asked.
“Because if it had been manufactured rat poison, then according to Orfila, it might have shown up in the dowager’s body.”
“It depends on what Dr. Redmond found when he investigated that body.”
“If he’s in league with the Broughton family in some way or is, in fact, the murderer, he’s hardly likely to share that information with us, now is he?”
“Ah, but there are other ways of finding out those results.” Mr. Stanford smiled. “I’m a member of Fletchers. In fact, I’m the current secretary of the club.”
“Broughton is a member, too,” Major Kurland added. “I had dinner with him there.”
“Dr. Redmond is also a member. If he has been writing any scholarly articles about the dowager, then I might be able to find out about them.”
“He’s hardly going to write everything down, is he?” Lucy said.
“You’d be surprised what a keen scientific observer will keep notes on, Miss Harrington. Some of our members keep detailed records of the most intimate nature.”
Major Kurland produced a familiar black bottle out of his pocket. “And while you’re doing that, Stanford, perhaps you might care to find out exactly what’s in this?”
“Where did you get it?”
“Be careful,” Major Kurland warned. “I suspect it’s the last thing Oliver Broughton ever drank.”
Mr. Stanford examined the handwritten label. “But it’s supposed to be an elixir for coughing and fever.”
“And that might be all it is, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. I’d also recommend you don’t let Dr. Redmond or Broughton know what you are doing.”
Death Comes to London Page 18
